


2.5 Minutes

by CameronFaneron



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Also im sorry but pennywise and the mind flayer are combined into one, Character’s Name is Richie Wheeler, Coming Out, Everyone lives, Fluff and Angst, Good Sibling Nancy Wheeler, Growing Up, Mike Wheeler Loves Will Byers, Multi, Nobody is Dead, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie is 2 1/2 minutes older than mike, Slice of Life, and he loves it, basically richie and mike are chaotic twins, they love eachother, twins!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22272115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CameronFaneron/pseuds/CameronFaneron
Summary: Richie Wheeler is two and a half minutes older than Mike Wheeler. And Mike is super salty.OrThe twin au I've been craving
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier & Mike Wheeler, Richie Tozier & Mike Wheeler & Nancy Wheeler, Richie Tozier & Nancy Wheeler, The Losers Club (IT) & The Party (Stranger Things), Will Byers/Mike Wheeler
Comments: 23
Kudos: 135





	1. Clean Your Room, Wheeler

**July 7th, 1991**

Mike Wheeler laid comfortably on his bed in the small Derry house basement, enjoying a rare moment of peace he was granted. Richie was out with his off-brand Brady Bunch, and his party wasn't officially hanging out until later, so quiet and calm like this was hard to find. Mike gingerly flipped to the next page of his brothers old comic books.

As a 15-year-old living with two siblings, he barely got any alone time. Don't get him wrong, he loves his sibling more than words can describe. In a second, Mike would sacrifice his own life to protect his siblings from danger. They were just really freaking annoying. 

Richie was always talking, moving, and annoying, all day and night. He was insistent on constantly hanging out with Mike, always following him around and getting in his space. Boundaries didn't exist for Mike’s twin brother. Nancy was only annoying with her boy problems. From what Mike knows, Nancy is dating Steve Harrington, getting hit on by Patrick Hockstetter (her bad-boy first-grade crush), and flirting with Robin Buckley. Girls are so weird.

As of right now, Mike was compeltely calm and alone, reading dumb comics he stole from Richie and ignoring his responsibilities as a human being. When was the last time he ate? That stuff was trivial to him now. He continued to read.

After a few lovely moments of bliss, the door slammed open. 

“MICHAEL!~” He winced, the peaceful moment officially broken by a whiny squeal from upstairs. “MIKEY, HON! I’m HOME!~” pounding from the basement ceiling was a telltale sign of Mike’s brother, Richie Wheeler, pounding on the floor/basement ceiling. A side effect of coming home way too early. 

“Shut up, Richard!” Mike heard Nancy, his and Richie’s older sister yell. 

“Aw, Nancy…” Richie dragged out the ‘a’. “I didn't know you were worried about me as well! I’m so touched!” Richie resumed banging on the floor. “MICHAELSON! I’M HOME-“

Mike decided to step in. “I _know_ you’re home, Rich!” He yelled. “I can hear your yodelling from down here.”

Richie scoffed as loudly and obnoxiously as he could. “This whole family hates me! Why can't I just love on my siblings?” Richie’s converse-wearing footsteps grew closer to the entrance to the basement. 

“Why can't you do it quietly?” Nancy hollered. 

Mike cackled. “Because he’s super annoying, thats why!” 

Richie let out cooing noises. “Aw!” He mused. “I’m so touched, my dear Michael! That was so kind of you to say!”

“God, you're such a loser.” Nancy remarked.

Richie let out a shocked laugh. “Really? I am?” Mike dog-earred the comic page he was on.

“Watch it, Nance.” Richie warned. “You're a-cruisin’ for a bruisin’.”

“Richie, what-“

“Will all of you just _shut up?!_ ” Their dad screamed, his voice seeming to rattle the very structure of the house. “You’re all giving me a goddamn _headache_!”

There were a few silent beats before Richie decided to apologize.

“Sorry, Dad!” Richie called up. Mike and Nancy did the same. The short scolding didn't stop Richie from bulldozing down the basement steps, however.

Mike sighed and set down the book, looking over to the basement entrance, and finding bug eyes and an obnoxious Hawaiian T-Shirt. Richie took long strides over the small bed crammed in the corner where Mike was sitting. He had his arms stretched, like he was going to hug him. Not on Mike’s watch.

He tried valiantly to shield himself with his arms. But Richie’s love was too strong, and they eventually ended up wrestling each other, Richie, begging for a _kiss on the cheekies_ , and Mike, laughing while desperately trying to avoid him. 

Unfortunately(for Mike), Richie’s gangly limbs were able to clamber over mike to give him a wet fat kiss on the cheek. Mike gagged in disgust, giggling and wiping the slobber off his face. 

“Ugh! Idiot!” Mike grunted. Richie lazily flopped down on the end of the unmade bed. He balled up and empty chip bag and tossed it at Mike’s forehead. 

“You love me, admit it.” The sloppiest grin pulled its way across Richie’s face, and Mike sighed in exasperation. “Also, clean the basement, you lazy bum.”

He scoffed. “Dude. Half of this mess is totally yours.” Mike was completely right.

The basement was Mike and Richie’s combined room, their beds tucked in their respective corner. They kept their areas somewhat tidy, however, the rest of the room was different story. 

In the center of the basement was a fairly large card table, with books and blankets both covering and surrounding it. Old, empty chip bags lay scattered in random places: on the large desk by the entrance, the worn down bean bags, under the card table, on the floor, etcetera, etcetera. Don't even get started on the clothes flung about. The room was pig sty, in all sense of the word.

Half of the mess came from the Party, and the other half was courtesy of the Losers. 

Richie sniffled. “I can't help it man.” Mike furrowed his brow in confusion. “I have this twin brother, and he has the huge nerd herd that comes over everyday. They play ‘ _Dungeons and Strap-Ons’_ all day, and they make a huge mess. They even have hot makeout seshes without me!” 

Mike screeched, flabbergasted. “You’re such a loser!” He flopped on top of Richie, initiating the second wrestle of that day. 

* * *

The Party camped around their card table, only the warm glow of the small desk lamp providing light. They had been playing this campaign for about two hours now, and currently, their party stood in front of a cave. Mike, their DM, went over the campaign in order to figure out what to do. 

“Okay everybody,” Mike began. He picked up a few figures from a small cedar box, hiding his hand behind his DM handbook. “You all enter the dark and musty cave. What is your order?” Lucas stands up and reaches over to their characters on the map. 

“As the Fighter of this group, I’ll go first.” He grabs the dragonborn figure and places it in front of the party. “I’m the tankiest.” Nobody objects, so he takes his seat.

Dustin scoffs. “I'm the strongest here, so I’ll take the caboose.” He places his ranger at the back. Will makes a confused noise. 

“I'm the druid!” He cried. Mike watches, amused, as the two fight over who goes first. Lucas shoots a look at Mike. They both know that their ranger and their druid were too scared to go next. Those two were always the wimpier ones. 

“Guys.” Dustin and Will stopped bickering to stare at Mike from across the table. “Old fashioned way, okay? ‘Rock, paper, scissors’ it.” The two spellcasters sighed.

Mike was about to continue speaking when he heard a mummering from above the basement.

“-your house is seriously a mess, Rich. It's a farmhouse here! And don't get me started on that _musk._ ” 

“Well, Spaghetti, I’ll have you know, your mom really, _really_ enjoys my scent. Speaking of your mom, I-“

“Beep beep, Richie.”

“Staniel! Already? I’m appalled.”

Mike slowly cranked his head to the staircase. People started marching down those stairs. One, two, three, four, _seven,_ people were making their way into the basement. Richie, of course, was leading the way. When he laid his eyes on The Party, a huge grin split on his face.

“Lukey! Dusty! Michael! _And_ William?” He quickened his pace down the stairs. With the way Richie was looking, Mike knew the british guy was coming. “My, oh my! Why, today is shapin’ up tah be my lucky day! To what do I owe the pleashah?” Mike internally face-palmed.

People, who Mike recognized to be the “losers” Rich spoke so fondly of, clambered down the stairs. 

The silence was long and awkward, as strangers glanced at each other, and then around the room. Mike was the first to speak up. 

“Richie? What the hell are you doing here?” He gestured around the now stuffy basement. “We’re playing right now. Weren’t you supposed to be at your dumb clubhouse? Get out?!” Richie looked taken aback. Ben coughed awkwardly. 

“My dear brother, you wound me!” He clutched Ben tightly. “Ben’s treehouse is far from dumb.” Richie pushed his glasses further up his nose. Staniel(is that really his name? Mike doesn't know, really) steps forward from behind Bill(maybe). 

“Are you playing D’n’D?” He was probably the most normal of the bunch, sounding calm and expressionless. Lucas nodded slowly. Just like that, a switch was flipped.

“Holy shit, dude!” An unfairly pretty girl(when did richie ever talk to hot girls?) leaped towards them, checking out the table they had set up. “Hell yeah. What's goin’ on right now?”

Dustin, all bashful and awkward(most likely because of said hot girl), explained the campaign briefly. Slowly but surely, each loser joined in watching the game progress. 

“H-ho-holy shit, Dustin,” Bill marveled. “You’re a fu-fucking id-idiot.” Dustin gasped. 

“What? Why?”

“Luc-lucas is liter-actually getting his a-ass handed to h-him. All your sp-spells are av-a-availible. Dude.” Dustin shrugged halfheartedly.

“LUCAS! Just pull out your dagger as a bonus action and slash at the goblin!” Eddie groaned after five minutes of watching Lucas pitifully try to kill a measly goblin. Even Lucas was getting frustrated with himself. “You’re level 7 bro, buck up!”

Mike barked a laugh. “Yeah, Lucas.”

Lucas grunted angrily, aggressively rolling a d4. “You try being under a drooling goblin!”

Eddie laughed, like that was either the funniest joke ever, or the stupidest idea ever. 

“Hell no, do you know how many diseases those things are carrying? Rabies is a big one. There’s also the chance of HIV, leprosy, pneumonia, streptococcus- eugh, their skin is probably a breeding ground for bacteria. And imagine all the other wordly viruses they’re carrying that we have absolutely no treatment for. What about divine intervention-!”

“Chill the fuck out bro!” Richie strode over to Eddie from his position next to Mike at the head of the table. He stuck his tongue out while smiling. “It’s not like the goblins is going to give you a staph infection just by licking you.” Screams rang out, mixed with death threats and curses from Eddie as Richie tried and failed to lick his face.

Bev sat behind Will, her gentle hands resting on his shoulders. Will seemed completely at ease, however still a tad bit awkward. 

As of right now, Will had yet to prepare his turn. On one hand, Dustin was fending off three goblins at once with a longsword in one hand and a dagger in the other. Lucas was writhing on the floor as a goblin bit at his face, his battle ax on the ground. 

“Okay, Will, breathe.” Beverly whispered. Will gulped, staring wearily at the anarchy. 

“This is going to shit, Bev.” He whispered. She leaned on the table beside Will. Scanning over the character sheet on the table, Beverly bit her lip, contemplating.

“You could use Thorn Whip to grab the goblins off of Lucas. Or you could use flame blade to finish off the goblin.” She suggested. A lightbulb seemed to go off in Will’s head. He dragged his finger down his spell list until he reached the spell he was looking for. 

“What if,” he pressed his hands together, scrunching his nose. “I cast Flame blade as a bonus action, then I run between both Lucas and the goblins Dustin is fighting,” he uses dice to display his idea. Beverly nodded thoughtfully. 

“Go on…”

“Then,” Will continued. “I jump into the air and do a 360 degree spin.” Beverly gasped with delight.

“Then you can tackle Lucas’s goblin with ease…”

“And then I can knock back the goblins clobbering Dustin!” Beverly and Will high fived triumphantly.

The rest of the game is pretty eventful. Dustin, the “strongest” of the group, gets pummeled and knocked out several times. Some of those times, Richie thought Mike should’ve just killed Dustin, but the saving throws Dustin rolled were absolutely unreal. So unreal, that Mike didn't have the heart to kill off the ranger. Bill would force Lucas to swoop in and protect Dustin while Will fended the monsters off with Bev’s guidance. Every time Dustin got knocked out, Eddie had a nice and lengthy list of insults and diseases to attack him with.

Mike and Stan were crowding the tables, yelling at every stupid decision and whooping after every win. Ben chose to stay back with Beverly, occasionally giving his two-cents on the situation. At one point, even Nancy popped in to check on the party. Their parents were out on a date that night, so Nancy was automatically the authority.

During what seemed like hours of playing, each loser and party member left for the night, leaving Richie and Mike alone to the large mess of a basement. 

Both flopped on their own beds, bodies heavy with exhaustion. Richie belly flopped while Mike crawled slowly into bed. 

“Clean this room, Wheeler.” Mike murmured into his arms. Richie snorted.

“No you. I have seniority, bitch.” 

Mike flipped onto his back and threw his hands up in the air. “Literally only by two-and-a-half minutes! We’re identical twins! It doesn't matter!”

Richie snickered. “Night, little brother.”

“We’re. Identical. Twins!”

“Love you too.”


	2. Will Byers, You’re a Paranoid Young Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so a few things to address:
> 
> If the mind flayer could shapeshift and feed off of fear, then thats this pennywise. Theyre just combined
> 
> When ever mike hanlon or mike wheeler start talking in the same conversation, i’ll use their last names.
> 
> Holly does not exist. Im sorry :/ Georgie is alive tho
> 
> Nancy is 17-18. Everyone else is 15 except for stan, who is 14(And 3/4)
> 
> Bev and rich are just friends!!!
> 
> Thank you!! Enjoy!!

**July 15th, 1991**

_Richie ran out of that damned arcade immediately after Connor ratted him out to Henry Bowers. The wind dried his eyes that were previously full of tears. He wouldn’t be able to tell you why he was so worked up._

_The closest safe place was the old park at Derry, where a small festival was being held. People were bouncing to music, excited chatter swimming through the whole crowd. Some concert-goers were holding food and drinks. A few kids were carrying red balloons while a random hippie band was sitting on a portable stage, tuning up their instruments and hooking them to speakers._

_Richie jogged up to a bench, letting out a breath that had got caught on the shrinking lump in his throat. He rested all of his weight onto that bench, heaving in breaths. Is this what an asthma attacks feels like? Richie now knew why Eddie carried an inhaler._

_He zoned out, watching the way the wind made the grass ripple, just like ocean waves._

_“Richie…”_

_Eddie._

_Richie jumped out of his skin, whipping his head around too fast for it to be comfortable._

_“Eds?” He called. He could definitely hear him, but he was nowhere to be found. Eddie called to him once more._

_“Rich? What are you doing?”_

_His voice was much closer now, and Eddie was suddenly right next to him on the bench, decked out with tiny red shorts and a stuffed fanny pack. Richie immediately calmed by just looking at Eddie._

_“Oh lord, Spaghetti.” He wheezed. Eddie made a small noise of protest. “Eddie, my love. My night and my day.” Two hands flew around Eddie’s waist, bringing him into a tight hug. Eddie didn't flinch at all._

_“I just went through the worst shit of my life- I’m fine though.”A sudden bout of self consciousness washed over him. Did he hold on too long? Was he being too obvious? Eddie was released from the hug. He stared up at richie through thick brown lashes. Richie’s face flushed hard._

_“Let's just get out of-“_

_“I know, Richie.” Eddie spoke, his words all sweet and honeyed and not at all Eddie-like. A soft smile landed upon his face, all sympathetic and shy. Absolutely not like Eddie._

_“Eddie, what?” Something about the way Eddie was speaking sent chills up Richie’s spine that, no matter what he did, he couldn't shake off._

_“I know, Richie.” The shy smile turned more sinister. Richie now realized that the people in the park were staring at them, still and quiet._

_So still. Like standing corpses with cold and unfocused eyes. Now, every adult and child held something new that absolutely baffled Richie._

_Red balloons. Small, innocent, red balloons._

_The soft hands that had been holding Richie’s own squeezed and didn't stop. Richie turned over to Eddie, whos smile has grown sinister. Almost as quickly as the grin came, it fell into a deep frown. Eddie looked angry. Pure, unadulterated rage._

_The air stopped moving. Richie was frozen to his seat._

_“I know, Richie.” He hissed. And with those words, Eddie’s jaw dislocated, dropping so wide open that Richie could see down his esophagus. Black matter poured out like a flood gate, smelling of pine trees and birthday cake. Richie gagged anyway._

_Eddie’s eyes rolled up into his skull and popped out of their sockets like confetti poppers, veins and muscles acting as the confetti landing on Richie’s face with a ‘plop’. Then, Eddie’s eyes crawled down his cheeks, streaks of blood marking them. His skin grew pale white, and he almost resembled a clown._

_Richie was frozen, absolutely unable to move, paralyzed with fear. The sight could chill anyone to the bone. Richie was no exception. He couldn't feel anything except for the piercing gaze of the crowd._

_“I know your dirty secret, Richie!”_

_Richie regained all feeling in his body after the cold set into his bones. He screamed and squeezed both eyes shut, but the image of Eddie’s bloodied face was burned into his mind, like a hot iron branding his conscious._

_Refusing to let the bile crawl its way up to his mouth, Richie chanted a prayer and a short, yet calming phrase._

_“It's not real.” Richie muttered. His voice wobbled and the words got stuck in his throat._

_“It's not real, it's not real.”_

_“It's not real.”_

_“It's not real.”_

_“It's not real.”_

_Richie opened his eyes once again._

_A park ranger, no taller than six feet with a badge that reads “Hopper”, was shaking him by the shoulders, asking if he was alright._

* * *

**July 16th, 1991**

  
  


Today was yet another day where the Losers and the Party were all crammed in the small basement of the Wheelers. Rain was beating down on the Loser's clubhouse all night, so when the group arrived at said location, the place was only slightly flooded. Eddie, being Eddie, refused to let anybody go inside. So they decided to just crash in Richie’s basement. Just like a few nights previous, the Party was already there, doing whatever it is the Party did. 

The whole cluster of teens relaxed silently in front of the small television set on a very short coffee table. Will was crammed between Richie and Mike Wheeler, acting as a chip bag holder for the two of them. Will grumbled for a whole minute before accepting his fate. 

Eddie reached for a chip from the bean bag chair behind Richie, refusing to sit on the grimy carpet. Stan took the other bean bag chair, being the youngest out of them all. Mike Hanlon was sitting by Richie’s comic collection scanning through books with Bill and Ben. Dustin and Lucas were on the other side of Mike Wheeler, Dustin being passed out and Lucas barely conscious.

Richie took a small hit from the cigarette Beverly was offering. The girl herself was cuddled into Richie, practically laying on him with her head resting in the crook of his neck. 

“God, Bev.” Richie’s voice dipped into the gruff ranges that he occasionally spoke in. “You are a lifesaver. I haven't had a smoke in so long, you’re the best.” Beverly took a long drag before nuzzling further into Richie.

“Damn right I am.” 

Mike Wheeler leaned over, gesturing for the joint. “I wanna hit.”

Richie only snorted. “You don't even smoke when we ask you to.” 

Mike scoffed. “Friggin’ liar.”

Richie scoffed back twice as hard. “Friggin’ Pussy.”

Mike scoffed three times as hard. “Liar.”

Another scoff. “Pussy.”

More scoffing. “Liar.”

“Pussy.”

“Liar!”

“Pussy!”

“ _LIAR_!”

Eddie smacked the back of Richie’s head, although most of the pain was absorbed by his black mop of hair. 

“Shut up!” He barked. “Smoking is just asking for lung cancer, dickwad.” Richie gasped.

“Shit, dude. Seriously?” Richie craned his neck to look back at Eddie, meaningfully. “You’re not kidding, are you? God- I’m seriously an idiot, aren't I?” Richie smacked his face, upset written all over his features. “I don't want to get lung cancer. Damnit.”

Mike, Beverly and Eddie all stared at Richie, confused. Richie didn't give a crap about his health, so why would he now? Especially after a short scold from Eddie. It was barely anything convincing, but Richie seemed to be entirely for Eddie’s health talk. 

“If I get lung cancer…” he mourned, as if he already had the dreaded disease. “... I cant fuck your mother anymore, Eds! What the hell, man?” 

Beverly snorted. Mike face-palmed while Eddie was teeming with barely restrained anger. He looked scandalized at Will, who was giggling to himself. Will and Richie fist bumped. 

“What the fuck are _you_ laughing at?!”

* * *

Something about this game of Street Fighter II was flowing with tension. Friendly Competition, if you will. 

Everyone except for the Twins™, Beverly, Will, and Eddie left at around noon. This gave the remaining few opportunities to travel around town without too much trouble. Everybody but Beverly could bike their way through Derry. Beverly didn't mind. She stood on the pegs of Richie’s back wheel(the pegs were affectionately named “homie haulers”). 

Will was the one to suggest the arcade. Beverly had never been there and the other boys were pretty experienced with it. Richie immediately suggested Street Fighters II, and they ended up where they were now. Crammed around a small arcade machine that smelled strongly of pizza, Richie and Mike battling for the title of alpha twin. 

Currently, Richie had Eddie on his side, while Mike had Will. Beverly rooted for whoever was currently winning. 

“Dear brother.” Richie remarked through gritted teeth. 

With a final button smash, the two letters, ‘K.O’ appeared on the screen. Mike’s character slumped to the ground, dead.

“I do believe I’ve triumphed over you, thus proving me the superior Wheeler.” Mike grumbled, crossing his arms. 

Will smiled slightly. “I mean, you have to accept defeat, Mike. It's your job as the lesser twin.” He held back barely-controlled giggles. Mike pouted harder, face flushed.

He slammed a coin down onto the abused machine, suddenly shouting: “REMATCH. NOW.” 

Richie jumped back, fairly surprised and slightly scared. “Dude, what the hell man? Sore loser much?” Eddie nodded.

“Richie already beat you, man.” Eddie shrugged. 

Mike shook his head, adamantly sliding the token further towards Richie. The other twin seemed confident. Face saying “ _you're on”_ , Richie grabbed the coin and slid it in the machine. 

“What the hell are you doing man?” Eddie hissed while rubbing his arms. 

“Get out while you’re ahead. You could lose this next round, dude. It's common sense to know when to stop.”

Richie barked out a laugh. “Eds, Spaghetti, Rigatoni, Penne Edd-ay, Eddie-Machete-I-Use-to-Slice-my-Cappelletti,” 

Eddie’s brows furrowed.

“Don't call me-“

“Shut the fuck up, my love. Daddy Richie’s talking.” Eddie face erupted into a flush. “When have you ever known me for common sense?” 

Beverly piped up. “Beep beep, Richie.”

“I’m sorry, Beverly, my one true love.”

Will rolls his eyes, turning around to briefly peek outside the arcade. 

And just outside of the arcade stood none other than a clown. He was slightly taller than 6 feet. He wore a frilly, yet dirty, outfit and sported bright orange, stringy hair. However, the fact that a clown was standing outside the arcade wasn't the part that freaked Will out the most. 

It was the piercing, yellow eyes. Looking directly at _him._ Not just Will’s physical appearance. Those eyes saw _him,_ stripping him down layer by layer until he was nothing but a bleeding little child seeking help to escape from his monsters. He felt violated and so raw and petrified and _scared_ and-

“ _I’m waiting,_ _Will_.”

  
  
  


…it spoke to him. 

The clown was no longer smiling. 

Goosebumps trailed up his spine, to the top of his head. He could feel the chills roll to his fingers, and he shivered. Almost instantly the arcade felt way too stuffy. 

Will turned around to see if Mike saw. When Mike was staring at the arcade game, he turned around and looked for the clown. It was gone. Suddenly, Will couldn't breathe properly.

“Mike?” He whispered. “I think I’m going to go outside for a bit. Don't wait up.”

Mike turned around to Will, worried. “Are you okay, Will? Everything alright?” Will nodded. The motion made him queasy.

“Never better. The arcade is just feeling kind of stuffy right now.” Mike, satisfied with the answer, turned back around and began to attempt to pummel Richie once again. 

Will took long steps, making a beeline for the exit.

He practically bulldozed through doors, feeling the nice, refreshing wind hit his face. Fresh air was always nice. Even Derry air. But, however nice it was to be out of that arcade, the goosebumps never left. Just like those yellow eyes that were now branded into his memory.

Kids entered and exited the arcade, giggling quietly. He distantly wondered if the yellow eyes could see through them too. 

Will leaned up against one of the arcade’s brick walls, feeling like a weight was set into his chest. Thoughts, like ‘ _what the hell was that?!’_ , and ‘ _get a hold of yourself, Byers, there's no creepy clown outside of an arcade’_ entered his brain.

“Hey, Chip Bag.” Beverly sighed from beside him. Will jumped up from his position against the wall.

“God, Bev, you terrified me.” He clutched his chest leaning over and heaving in gulps of oxygen. “And Chip Bag? That's a new one.”

Beverly nonchalantly lit a cigarette. “I'm sorry about spookin’ ya.” Her lips twitched upward, meaning it was actually really funny, but she wasn’t going to tell him it was. 

“Why are you out here, Will? You seemed fine in the arcade.” Beverly cocked her head after taking a long hit. 

Will shrugged half-heartedly. 

“Wasn’t feeling to good. Was getting kinda bored.” _Every child in that arcade was probably being stared at by those eyes._

Those sickening, yellow, ugly eyes. The eyes that made you feel like a fucking fetus, crying in your mother’s arms like a helpless brat. He still felt violated and terrified, the clown-like _thing_ still sitting at the forefront of his mind. 

And he knew that Beverly would never believe him if he told her _any of this._

“Holy shit, dude. Your nose!” 

Two hands were on his face when opened his eyes. He doesn’t remember closing them. A scream was climbing it’s way up his throat, ready to ward off whoever was touching him. When he realised it was just Beverly, he calmed instantly. 

“Wha-“ there was a lump in his throat. He swallowed thickly. “What happened?”

Beverly wiped under his nose. “You have a nose bleed.” Her blue eyes landed on his face. “What is happening, Chip Bag?”

The eyes. Yellow. Angry. Bleeding. _Hungry_.

Will felt the terror settle over him once again. 

“I can’t tell you right now.” Beverly frowned. She was disappointed and he could tell. Will looked up to the clear blue sky, taking deep breaths and scratching his upper arms. The smoke clouds from Beverly’s cigarette hardly bothered him anymore. 

“Okay.”

Beverely used her foot to push herself off of the wall with a sigh. Dropping the unfinished cig on the ground, Beverly stamped it out with her dirty white converse. 

“I won't push you.” Will smiled down at her gratefully. Beverly returned the grin.

“I’m headed back inside, Will.” She gestured to the glass arcade doors. “Holler if you need anything.” 

Before she left, she leaned in to his ear. 

“Please. Talk to me if you need anything. I'm serious.” She whispered. Will chuckled weakly.

“Yes ma’am.” With that, Beverly headed back inside. Will stayed behind. 

_Yellow eyes._

* * *

The Wheeler children, Richie, Mike, and Nancy, were gathered around the dining table, eating the mediocre food that the eldest had purchased from the nearest Walmart. Usually, the Wheeler family ate together, but their parents were currently MIA.

Nancy pulled her brown locks back into a messy bun. Richie exhaled softly.

“Where'd you say Mom and Dad were?” Mike turned to Nancy, who was chewing on oven baked lasagna.

She leaned back to stretch, yawning. “They’re out on a date, I think.” Richie had a glint in his eyes. 

“Maybe we’re going to get some new siblings, guys!” Richie clapped both hands together. Mike gagged on his forked while Nancy grimaced. “You both know how babies are made right? Or does little old me have to teach you a thing or to about-“

“Rich, that’s…” Everyone at the table fell silent, waiting for Nancy to stop cringing so she could properly speak. “That's disgusting, eugh-“

Mike leaned his head into his hand looking a little green. “Beep beep, Richie.” 

Richie was giggling, high-pitched and proud. 

“Im eating _food._ I don’t want to think about mom and dad’s intimate life.”

Richie smiled with teeth, too wide and too happy.

Mike glared. If you looked closely, he was a little green.

Nancy groaned.

“You’re totally thinking about it now, aren’t you.” The older twin gave up on holding his laughter in. Richie started cackling like an idiot. 

Nancy got up, grabbing her still-full plate. 

“I think I’m done eating. I'm going out shopping with Steve.” She walked away from the twins. “Wanna come, boys?”

Mike yelled, “Ew, no.” At the same time Richie hollered, “Get a job, Nance.” 

“Fuck you, asshole, I have a job.”

“Being a sugar baby isn't a job.”

“Eat a dick, Richard.” 

Richie smiled happily. “Don’t you just love our sister?”

Mike breathed sharply through his nose, wanting to slap the smug smile off of Richie’s face. “How the hell do you ruin dinner so fast.” It wasn't a question. It was an observation.

Richie shrugged. “Because I love you?”

Then a very strange thing happened.

The lights began to flicker on and off. Even the lamps that weren't on began to flicker. Nancy, who had previously been washing off her dish, stopped and stared. The flickering continued for about a minute until the electricity went completely out. 

“Shit.” Mike hissed.

“Guys?” Nancy called. “You a-ok? No exploding bulbs or anything?” 

Richie gulped. “Yeah we're good. Why did Jesus just take a shit on our power?” Mike elbowed him.

“Richie.” Mike growled. “You’re _Jewish._ Don’t talk about the Lord like that or dad will have your head.”

“What he doesn't know can’t hurt him.” Richie sighed.

A crash and the sound of glass breaking was heard from the kitchen, accompanied by Nancy screaming and a bright flash from said room. 

“ _HOLY SHIT!_ ”

“NANCY!” Mike bolted to his feet, panic taking over his features. “Nancy, what the hell happened?!” He sprinted over to the kitchen, knocking over a houseplant in the process. Richie followed close behind.

When the two arrived, the lights flickered back on, only to reveal Nancy crouched on the floor with shards of glass sticking out of her arms and hair. The glass had blood splatters and weren't too deep into her skin, but they were deep enough to worry Mike. She was on the floor, trembling and shaking. 

The bright flash must’ve been the light turning on. However, the crash and shattering glass was definitely the light exploding, seeing as there was ash on the ceiling. 

Both boys could tell she wasn't just scared from the lightbulb exploding. Her eyes were wide and filled to the brim with unshed tears. She stared at the window from the floor, unblinking and shaking. Her lips were trembling and she looked as though she were ready to curl up and cry. And she had broken out into a sweat, becoming pale and stricken. 

“ _Nancy_.” Mike breathed

Mike raced to her side, dragging a frozen Richie with him. They both made careful work in plucking out the glass, but Mike’s hands were shaking too hard for a clean removal. Nancy had yet to respond, still on the floor, silent and trembling. 

Plucking out the final shard from her forehead, Mike stood up to wet a small cloth in order to clean the wound. 

Richie lightly pushed her over, since she was leaning against a cabinet’s handle which couldn’t be comfortable. He then crouched in front of the shaking and bleeding girl. 

“Nancy.” He whispered softly, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “What's going on?”

Nancy screeched, high, scared and deafening. Richie jumped back while breathing heavily. Footsteps clambered over.

“Richie,” Mike breathed, holding a dripping wet cloth. “ _What the hell_.” Richie gaze flicked between Nancy, officially snapped out of whatever trance she was in, and Mike, who was scared and worried.

“Holy shit.” Nancy muttered.

“Holy shit is right.” Richie agreed, shakily standing up. He extended a hand out for Nancy to grab onto. She stood on unsteady legs.

“Did you see the-“ she gulped. “The fuck-fuckin’” She began to hyperventilate. “The fuckin’ _clown_ , standing outside, wi-with the yell-yellow _eyes-“_

Hands flew to her mouth, covering it. It took Mike a second to realize he was the one covering Nancy’s mouth.

“That's one way to calm her down, dick.” Richie chuckled. Mike gave soft ‘beep beep’. Richie shut himself up.

Nancy curled forward and let out a broken sob into her hands. Immediately, the two boys wrapped themselves around Nancy, clinging tightly. Both shushed her until she was breathing normally. 

“That was a funky ride if I do say so myself.” Richie said after a long few minutes of silence. Nancy giggled into her hand.

“Very funky.” She agreed. Mike exhaled sadly. 

“I thought we were having a moment.”

“We still are!”

* * *

Wentworth Wheeler cradled his crying wife in his arms, hushing her softly and rubbing up and down on her shoulders.

They found their children laying together, Mike and Richie were both asleep on either side of Nancy, who was blankly staring at the TV. Wentworth didn't recognize the channel. 

Karen was the first to speak. “N-nan-Nancy,” she choked out. “Will Byers… is Mike-Mikey awake?”

Nancy craned her neck over the couch. “No mom. He’s completely out.” She sat up, careful not to disturb the boys. “What's wrong with Will?”

Karen crumpled to floor. Leaving Wentworth the only one to explain the loss, he told Nancy with a slow and sorrowful tone. 

Nancy gasped softly. She turned back around to the TV. Stroking Mike’s hair, she cried for the second time that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop so yeah heres pp(pennywise)
> 
> Unedited so there may be some mistakes
> 
> This chapter is really long and it took a only day or two to write thanks to snow
> 
> Anyway please tell me how i can improve my writing and the this story!!
> 
> Thank you for reading, have a nice day


	3. Eddie Breaks His Leg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first circle of hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok sorry abt the breakkk!!! 
> 
> I got rlly caught up with school, and i just wanted to chill out, so i completely forgot to update B) 
> 
> So heres the next chapter, sorry that its kinda short and thank you for your patience

**July 16th, 1991**

_ “Bye Richie. Seeya, guys!” Eddie yelled behind him. Around 4 o’clock is when he decided to leave the arcade and start heading home. His mom was probably worrying herself to death by now. Eddie would rather not deal with her crocodile tears today.  _

_ Flipping up his beat-up bikes kickstand, Eddie threw his leg over the seat and began pedaling down the long and winding road home. A bitterness settled in the pit of his stomach as he pedalled around Neibolt street. He pedaled faster. _

_ If he wasn't already frustrated, then he was annoyed now. It was sad, how just thinking about Sonia spiked his blood pressure.  _

_ Derry wind brushed through the trees, creating soft brushing noises and thundering sound in Eddie’s ears. Eddie’s scrunched up with confusion. An argument could be made that it was clear and warm only a few seconds ago. Now, the beautiful blie sky turned grey, with large and ominous clouds looming over the shivering Kaspbrak. _

_ “Eddie…” _

_ Bill? _

_ Eddie let his foot drag, slowly stopping the bike. The wind picked up, and Eddie whipped his head around, searching for his friend. If he was honest, he didn't even know if it was Bill or not. This wind blew too loud for him to clearly hear anything. _

_ “Eddie, d-uh-dude. Get- get out of the fucking wi-wind.”  _

_ Eddie looked behind him. There the leader of the losers stood, folded arms and scrunched up face. His foot tapped impatiently, and he took the stance of a disappointed father.  _

_ Eddie squinted and looked around. Trees were bending over and swaying with the rippling grass and strong winds. The quarry in the distance was moving, waves fighting each other for dominance.  _

_ Only then did Eddie realize how cold he really was, shivering with chills running from head to toe.  _

_ “Bill.” He yelled. The wind almost completely covered his own voice with sound. “What are you doing out here? You could get a cold!” A particularly strong breeze almost knocked Eddie and his bike over. He steadied himself to look back at Bill. _

_ Bill, however, didn't even look affected by the gust. “I was headed- head-headed over to the beaten up house on-uh-on Neibolt. Shady sh-shit is going on there.” His lip curled into a deep frown. “I heard s-scr-screams and somebody cry-crying. It was f-freaking me the fu-fuck out.” _

_ Then they both trekked down Neibolt street, Eddie giving up on riding for fear of getting knocked over. Bill remained silent for a majority, anxiety radiating off of him. Eddie spoke little, only talking about the arcade and the oddly severe windstorm.  _

_ Suddenly, Bill came to a stop, as did Eddie. In front of them lied the rotting picket fence to an equally rotten house. The structure, so amazingly unstable, shook and shuddered in the wind. It remained resilient, however, creaking wearily and staying on its foundations. Bill turned his back to Eddie. _

_ “We’re here. 29 Neibolt Street.” He spoke with every ounce of clarity Eddie didn't know Bill had.  _

_ They stood there for the lesser part of a minute, Eddie on shaking knees. He felt as weak as the house looked, yet he didn’t know why. _

_ “Bill.” The hypochondriac rubbed both arms in an attempt to soothe his goosebumps. “What are we doing here.” _

_ No answer. _

_ And so Eddie stayed silent still with Bill for about two minutes more. Bill only stood there, still as a stone. “Okay…” Eddie drawled. “I’m gonna leave now, so, yeah.”  _

_ As if some divine being heard Eddie try to leave, the wind stilled and everything went quiet. _

_ He saddled back on his bike, fully expecting to ride home and deal with his mom. Bill had been acting weird, and Eddie got a bad feeling just by being with him. He went to flip up his kickstand. Bill grunted and Eddie stopped before he could. _

_ Then, Bill did something weirder. Before Eddie could ride away, Bill stuck his arm out with lightning speed, grabbing onto Eddie’s forearm with a vice-grip. Eddie froze. Bill still hadn’t turned around. _

_ “Don’t be a wimp, wheezy.” Bill’s whisper was heard perfectly over the wind. _

_ “What?”  _

_ The scream Bill let out was inhuman and grating, twisting his upper body around to stare at Eddie. His torso was wound up like a wet rag, and Eddie saw his shirt rip to show off green and sickly yellow skin.  _

_ Eddie shrieked, and tried desperately to release himself from Bill’s hold, but it was too much. Bill stared at him with an absolutely blank expression. Then, his eyes grew dry and settled deep into his skull, the surrounding skin becoming dry, flaky, and sallow. _

_ Gagging noises came from It, whatever the hell “It” was, and then threw up black matter, all of it landing in Eddie’s open and waiting mouth. His screaming only sounded like gurgles thanks to that warm and foul liquid. _

_ And, almost like paint, warm, wet flesh from Bill’s face slid off patch by patch and onto Eddie’s healthy and fair arm. He let out another blood curdling scream, yanking his whole body away from Bill.  _

_ The panic-induced plan failed miserably. Eddie pulled so hard that he ripped off one of Bill’s rotting arms and got his leg caught in between the seat stay and tube of the bike.  _

_ Then, he stepped on his bike with the other foot, effectively snapping the stuck leg in half at the shin. Eddie screeched again. _

_ “It” kept on melting over Eddie’s pale face with wet splashes.  _

_ “Wanna play a game, Eddie Kaspbrak?” _

_ Eddie screamed at the top of his lungs, tearing up his throat and lungs before promptly passing out from pain and terror. _

* * *

**  
July 17th, 1991**

Stanley Uris shuddered, barely enjoying his weekend down in the Derry sewers. The smell was disgusting, carrying that stench from port-a-potties and rotting food, and the sight was even worse. Old clothes, food, and waste made its way into these pipes were gathering into piles at the entrance.

“Guys,” he called from the mouth of the pipe. Mike and Richie were down the furthest, while Dustin and Lucas also refused to go beyond the sewer entrance. 

“Maybe it's about time we headed out. It's getting kinda late-“ it was 12:36. “-and we’re hungry.” Dustin grunted in agreement. 

“Yeah, seriously guys. Let's get going.” 

Lucas chewed on his lip and leaned against the rocks beside the pipe. He could hear Mike yell from inside the drain.

“No.” He stated, firm and final. “We are going to keep looking. If Will were here right now, with any one of you missing, he would be looking for you.”

There was a moment of quiet before Richie also yelled. “Brothers never leave brothers behind. No matter what.” 

Stan blinked. There was no joke in his voice, only pure honesty and determination.

Lucas finally revealed himself to the entrance.

“MIKE!” Lucas growled, a roar from deep in his chest. “Will is  _ dead!  _ They pulled his  _ dead _ body out of the sewers. When the doctors checked, he was  _ dead!”  _ Lucas fisted a hand through his hair. “I know, it’s really,  _ really, _ hard to swallow, but he’s dead. And we can't do jack  _ shit  _ about it.” 

The warm air was filled with a thick and tense silence. Clanging from inside the drain ceased, and Richie’s soft whispering could be heard. Mike’s scream then followed.

“If you don’t want to search, then fucking  _ LEAVE _ !”

His words echo in the sewer for a long period of time. After a second of stillness, only Richie emerged from the darkness, his boot and khakis covered in mud and other disgusting things Stan refused to think aboutAnd he didn’t look happy, despite the shaky smile on his face. 

“Welp,” he started, placing two hands on his hips. “Mike’s in a pissy mood. Now run along. Ta-ta. Shoo.” Richie motioned for them to leave. Dustin sighed and trudged off while Lucas gladly stomped away, huffy and mad. Richie smiled sadly when only two people left.

The remaining boy frowned. “Richie.” He folded his arms and stared pointedly at his eyes. “You gotta tell him. Hes going to keep searching and searching and before you know it: he would have gone insane searching for him.” 

The sun was beating on the back of Stan's neck, causing sweat to prickle down his spine. Richie’s heavy gaze was making the conditions too much for him to handle.

He grabbed Stan’s arm and pulled him into the sewer. At first, he refused to enter, but eventually gave in to the tug. This was his best friend, and he could barely deny him when he looked like he did now. Tired, stressed, weary, and sorrowful. So he allowed himself to be pulled into the grime and dirty greywater. 

“He’s really dead,”Stanley whispered, careful of his voice level. Somehow, just saying that made everything feel all too real. 

“He’s fucking dead,” Richie agreed and pulled away with distance in hus eyes. “And Mike-“ From inside the sewer, a loud  _ squelch  _ echoed. “He loved him.”

_ And he loved him.  _ The look that flashed over Richie’s face spoke volumes, and Stan knew exactly what kind of love he meant. Derry was never the most accepting place for that kind of baggage. Stan mourned for the person Will would have become. For the person Mike would have become. 

He grabbed Richie’s forearm and squeezed. Richie squeezed back. It was a form of reassurance, done many times between the two friends. 

“Tell him,” The two words seemed to shock the older twin, a visible dread settling over his body. Stan twitched impatiently.

“I will, I have to,” he whispered. “Thanks, Stan the Man.” If Richie was trying to hide the quiver in his voice, he had failed miserably. Stan nodded and Richie escorted him out of the sewer drain.

In no time at all, he had brushed off the fear and was back up and running his mouth.

“Welp.” He clapped his hands twice. “Get on your way. Sorry you had to deal with my bullshit, kind fellow.” Stan only rolled his eyes at hearing the british guy and squeezed Richie’s arm again as a goodbye. Then he began to walk across the quarry mud.

Once out of sight, Richie jogged back into the sewer drain to see his trembling twin holding a small letterman jacket. Mike turned around to show him the tag. 

_ Property of Will Byers _

* * *

  
Immediately when Sonia Kaspbrak opened her front door to Bill Denbrough standing there, she screamed for him to leave and then slammed the door without a second of hesitation. He knew he shouldn't have been shocked, but he was. After all, Ms. Kaspbrak only tolerated two of the losers: Him and Stan. When the door shut in his face, he took it as his cue to leave. 

Then Bill heard Eddie scream at his mom and her scream back, but he didn't understand what the hell was being said, their words muffled by the house. But he assumed Eddie was trying to go outside against his mother’s wishes. 

Sobs echoed through the house causing Bill to cringe: Sonia’s Crocodile Tears. Every single time, he grew more and more repulsed by her grade-A parenting. 

Bill hadn't seen Eddie in about four days. He wondered if he even knew about Will’s disappearance. 

When Eddie finally tumbled down the stairs, Bill was sent into a small form of shock.

Eddie. Hobbling down the porch steps with crutches. A cast was wrapped around his knee, lower leg, and foot. Eddie Kaspbrak had broken his leg and was staring at Bill with a terrified expression. 

“Thank you Mrs Kaspbrak,” Bill called, but it was useless. The front entrance was slammed once again. Eddie shifted his weight from one crutch to another. A pregnant silence stretched between them and Bill wondered if it had always been this hard to talk to Eddie.

“Hey,” he started. “You b-broke your-uh-your leg.” Eddie seemed to relax slightly and nodded.

“I really did, thanks for noticing.” He responded dryly. More silence.

“What hap-happened?” Bill tried again. Eddie seemed to close in on himself even more.

“I…” he trailed off, thinking. “Bike accident.”

It wasn't a lie, per say, but there was obviously more to it. Eddie was always so terrible at hiding things.

“Yeah, right,” Bill raised an eyebrow. “Anyways, Dus-Dustin said some s-sh-shit went down at th-the quarry.” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow and shifted on his crutches. “What kind of shit?”

“Have y-you heard? About W-W-Wi-Will?” Curse the stutter.

Eddie shook his head, lips tugging into a deep frown and his eyes growing wider every second Bill remained silent.

“What happened to Will? Is he hurt? In the hospital?” Bill wanted to say something, but his mouth felt like gum. “Bill, what the fuck happened? I can tell it’s something bad, your stutter got really bad.”

Curse the stutter. The smokey smell of Derry wafted through on the wind and rustled the tree leaves. Bill felt the sun beat down on his neck. 

He places a hand between Eddie’s shoulder blades, not missing the way the action made him flinch. “I’ll tell you on the way there.”

  
If anybody asked, no, Eddie did not faint upon seeing the tomb of Will Byers.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo thanks for reading bro
> 
> Richie is a little piece of crap and he knows it :)
> 
> Please tell me what you think :P


End file.
